Another Dawn (28 page)

      
"Dr. Wilson."
 
Father Salazar opened the door wide, admitting the doctor. The physician stepped through, removing his hat while his host closed and latched the door.

      
"Everything all right?" the doctor asked, looking around the room. "I don't see Jenny."

      
"In the kitchen," Marshal Weathers said. "Can't be too careful."

      
"Of course. Please, forgive me for calling so late."
 
Dr. Wilson actually appeared nervous. "Father Salazar, do you have a moment?"

      
"Sure, have a seat."

      
"Well, I'm gonna mosey on over to the jail now."
 
Marshal Weathers nodded. "You know to keep the front and back doors bolted."
 

      
Father Salazar threw the bolt home after Marshal Weathers had disappeared into the night, then turned his attention to Dr. Wilson. He returned to the fire and sat in a straight-backed chair, facing the doctor.

      
Sofie admired Luke's profile, firelight bathing his face in light and shadow. He had strong features, accentuated by his extremely short hair. Again, the only word that came to her mind to describe him was magnificent.

      
"The epidemic has made me come to a decision, Father," Dr. Wilson began, holding his hat in his lap.

      
He glanced at Sofie, who suddenly realized she was just standing there like a piece of furniture. "Oh, forgive me, I'll just go see Jen–"

      
"No, stay."
 
Dr. Wilson gave a nervous chuckle. "I might need a witness later, in case I turn chicken."

      
"Witness?" Father Salazar leaned back in his chair. "This sounds serious."

      
"It is."
 
Dr. Wilson cleared his throat. "And please call me Roman. After all we've been through, formalities seem ridiculous."

      
"I agree."
 
Father Salazar smiled. "My first name is Luke."

      
Luke
. She hadn't known, but now she realized the name suited him well. Much better than Father Salazar. Of course, she had other reasons for disliking his formal title.

      
Dr. Wilson arched a brow. "Is it permitted?" Chuckling, he shrugged. "I've never addressed a priest by his first name before."

      
"Sure, why not?" Father Salazar laughed, too. "Now what is it you wanted to talk to me about?"

      
"All right, Luke."
 
Dr. Wilson steepled his fingers beneath his chin. "During the war, I was very young, and even with all the dying around me, I couldn't see then what this epidemic has taught me now."

      
"Go on," Father Salazar–Luke–urged.

      
"Life is too short and too precious to waste."

      
"Amen," Father Salazar said in a fierce whisper, his expression fervent.

      
"So I've come to a decision I should've made over a year ago."
 
The doctor raked his fingers through his thick, white hair and sighed. "In the morning, I'm going to ask Anna Fleming to marry me, and–"

      
A gasp sounded from the kitchen and Dr. Wilson shot to his feet. Father Salazar joined him and they all stared at the woman none of them had heard open the kitchen door.

      
"Anna," Dr. Wilson said, his face reddening. After a moment, he smiled. "I meant this to be more romantic, but..."

      
"Roman Wilson, it's the most romantic thing I've ever heard."
 
Mrs. Fleming walked slowly toward him and took his hands in hers. "But before I give you my answer, I have a question for you."

      
Dr. Wilson's face paled several shades and he cleared his throat again. "What...what is it?"

      
Sofie saw Dora and Jenny peeking through the kitchen door, and she raised her finger to her lips. They both nodded and slipped into the room.

      
"What in heaven's name took you so long?" Mrs. Fleming's face crumpled and she burst into tears as Dr. Wilson caught her in his embrace.

      
"God only knows, Anna," he whispered fiercely. "All I know is I love you more than life itself."

      
Sofie stared openmouthed, tolerating Dora's impromptu embrace, and Jenny's jumping up and down. The child kept saying, "A wedding, a wedding," over and over again.

      
After a few moments, Dora and Jenny rushed over to congratulate the newly-engaged couple. Sofie moved toward them slowly, hanging back while they celebrated. This was, after all, a moment for family, and she was an outsider.

      
She felt Father Salazar's gaze on her and looked up–a mistake. The naked emotion blazing in his gray eyes stole her breath. It took several minutes for her to recover, drawing deep breaths into her oxygen-starved lungs.

      
"Wait, wait," Dr. Wilson said, laughing joyously with his bride-to-be. "There's more, if it's all right with you, Anna?" The doctor looked lovingly into Mrs. Fleming's eyes.

      
"What is it, Roman?"

      
"I know neither of us is Catholic, but I'd like very much for Father Salazar to perform the ceremony."

      
"I think that's a splendid idea," Mrs. Fleming agreed.

      
"Yes, so do I," Dora said, dabbing her eyes with a handkerchief. "It seems just perfect, after all we've been through together."

      
"Yes, and it also means we don't have to wait for the judge," Dr. Wilson added, his eyes twinkling when he winked at Mrs. Fleming. "I'm finished waiting."

      
Mrs. Fleming blushed and nodded. "Yes, please, Father?"

      
Like the others, Sofie turned her attention to Father Salazar, stunned by the panic in his eyes. He reached up to loosen another button on his already open-collared shirt. Perspiration trickled down the sides of his face, and his eyes were wide.

      
"Why, Father," Dora said, laughing, "you look as if you've never performed a wedding before."

      
Father Salazar tried to smile, but failed. After a moment, he shrugged and said, "Actually, I haven't."
 
He chuckled, his face turning crimson. "I'm sort of new at this. Maybe you should wait for–"

      
"Nonsense, Father."
 
Dr. Wilson clapped him on the back, beaming. "I've never been married before, so the two of us will learn together. Besides," the doctor's voice grew serious, "even if there were someone else here to perform the ceremony, I'd still want you to do it."

      
"As would I."
 
Mrs. Fleming moved closer and kissed Father Salazar on the cheek. "Please, Father?"

      
"I guess I don't have any choice."
 
Father Salazar smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes.

      
He looked over Mrs. Fleming's head and met Sofie's gaze. What she detected in his eyes made her shudder. Fear. He was terrified of something.

      
And, just for a moment, she saw an image of him with that same look in his eyes, but it was from before, when he'd had no hair. A wave of dizziness shot through her and she gripped the back of a chair for support as the image became clearer.

      
They were in a stark, cold room with several other men, all murmuring in low voices and moving around performing various tasks. Some of them wore uniforms. There was a priest, too, but this one was much older. He was talking in earnest with Father Salazar, who was wearing something that looked like a hospital gown.

      
A hospital? Cold steel, low voices, a priest, the hospital gown, and Sofie a doctor... An operating room?

      
And her patient had been Father Salazar himself.

      
A loud explosion sounded and Sofie's daydream vanished like a popping soap bubble. Explosions like the morning she'd been hurt and Father Salazar brought her here?

      
Then another explosion sounded, and Dr. Wilson rushed toward the door.

      
"Gunshots."

Chapter 11

      
Luke stood frozen, listening to the staccato echo of the gunshots. Vaguely aware of Dr. Wilson rushing out the door, he didn't stir from his state of shock until Sofie grabbed his arm and shook him back to reality.

      
"Father Salazar, are you all right?" She shook him again.

      
He was far from all right, but he nodded. "Gunshots," he said, then he looked into her eyes. Big mistake. He wasn't even close to all right. "I'd better go help."

      
The gunshots gave him an excuse to run away, a handy escape hatch from an impossible situation.
Coward
.
 

      
"Stay with them?" he asked Mrs. Fleming, and she nodded.

      
Running into the dark night to discern the source of gunshots could hardly be considered cowardly behavior, but in this instance, it was just that. He heard the bolt slide into place behind him as he darted into the cold and raced toward the jail. Somehow, he knew that's where he'd find trouble.

      
Of course, he had far more serious trouble back at the parsonage.

      
Spurred to action, he ran like he should have that first morning.
Alone and free
–his heart pounded the words over and over in his head.

      
But he wasn't free.

      
Comprehension dawned with all the pH balance of drain cleaner. Right in his gut.

      
Despite everything, he wasn't free at all. Now he was trapped by circumstances of his own creation.
Damn
. He ran faster, not caring whether he fell on his face or ran into a tree in the darkness.

      
Breathing took every ounce of strength he could muster as he maintained his pace. The boom box pounding in his head rumbled through his bones, made his blood quiver like the lime Jell-O he'd learned to hate over the years.

      
Anger aimed at himself–at the past and present, at his stupidity–fueled him until he flew down the dirt road. Working out in prison had been a balm, but now his endorphins failed. Hell, even Valium couldn't soothe his nerves at this point.

      
He was screwed.
 

      
He either had to commit the ultimate act of fraud, or run away from Redemption right now and never look back. His steps faltered and he staggered to a halt.

      
Run, run, run
. The word played over and over again in his head, and he looked around frantically, almost as if he expected to find another source for the voice. But there was no one.